He looked around at the carnage he caused, and his face spasmed; his mouth twisted as if he was going to be sick, but his eyes went to two bodies beside a storeroom door, and stayed there. One of those bodies was that of an old man, with the kind of pouch an herb-Healer often carried spilled out on the floor beside him. The other body was too small to be an adult; it had to be a child.
Van's posture betrayed him - tense, and legs slightly bent.
He's going to bolt - Stef realized, wondering if he could tackle the Herald before he broke and ran.
:No, he's not,: Yfandes said firmly, and interposed herself between Vanyel and the door. Something - broke open. And suddenly Stef felt what Vanyel was feeling. Absolute revulsion at the deaths, the massacre he had caused. Despair at the knowledge that he had killed at least one innocent; two if the boy could be counted in that category. Contemptible. Worse than contemptible . . . hateful. Insane. . . .
Under the self-loathing, the fear that Yfandes and Stef would both repudiate him, would hate him for what he'd done, and cast him out of their lives and hearts.
“No - Van -” Stef walked carefully toward him, slowly, with Yfandes maneuvering to keep Van's escape blocked. “Listen to me, it's not your fault. You were in pain, your mind was confused, you weren't able to think of anything except hurting them back. That's part of you - everybody has that as a part of them. You're not a god, above mistakes! It's just a part of you that you lost control of for a little. If it had been me, I'd probably have done a lot worse things than you did -”
'Fandes herded the Herald in close enough that Stef could get Vanyel in his arms. He did so, before Van could evade his embrace. The Herald shuddered all over his body, like a terrified animal.
:We've a problem, Bard: Yfandes said grimly. .-There's a lot worse damage than we thought.: And through her powers, she permitted him a glimpse of a little of what had been done to Van, a glimpse that suddenly made Van's speech about being “sated” and “little white mares” understandable. Stefen choked - and then had to make a conscious effort to start breathing again.
The bandits seemed to realize that Vanyel was no longer a threat, and began slipping past the three of them to vanish into the thin, gray light of dawn beyond the walls. Stef ignored them; they didn't matter. What mattered was Van.
He held Vanyel, but not in a way that would confine him - lightly - and tried to send back love along the link between them. The last of the brigands, the man who'd nearly impaled himself at Vanyel's command, crawled toward the shattered door, leaving a blood-smeared trail. He scrambled to his feet when he reached it, and tumbled out of sight beyond a pile of toppled stone blocks. I don't think he'll live long out there, Stefen thought. I can't really admit to caring much if he does.
Gray light filled the hollow of the wrecked hall, and the mage-fires died and went out, leaving smears of black ash where the burning bodies had been. Vanyel stood shivering and tense in Stefen's arms, while the sun rose over the walls of the keep. Finally, as the sun touched his blood-soaked, tangled hair, he collapsed into Stef's embrace.
Yes, Stefen thought. We've won the first round -
:It won't be the last,: Yfandes said, smoldering anger beneath her words. :They've broken him.:
Then it's up to us to put him back together.
“Come on, Vanyel -,” he said softly. “Let's go. Let's get you somewhere warm and safe.”
Stef found the tack, and the configurations it had been twisted into made him tight with anger. He managed to get it all untangled, got Yfandes saddled and bridled, then she knelt and Van practically fell into her saddle.
:l'd ask you to put the supports on him,: she said after she stood up again, :- but-:
“I have a pretty good idea,” Stef answered her, wishing that the bandit Van had nearly impaled hadn't gotten away. “I'm nowhere near as innocent as Van still thinks I am. He'd just get thrown back to last night if he felt restraints.”
Vanyel had fallen into a half-stupor; shock, Stef guessed. And at this point, the last thing he wanted to do was rouse him.
“I can walk beside, and steady him in the saddle, if you don't go too fast,” he told the Companion.
:Good. Thank you.: She moved off a few steps. :How's that?:
“That will do.” He kept one hand in the small of Vanyel's back, holding his sword-belt, and one clutching the front of Van's saddle. Now, if Stefen tripped, he wouldn't fall and take Van with him. “Where are we going?” he asked, as she led him through the wreckage of the doorway and into the sunlight. Several trails of footprints led away from the place, and she looked around for a moment.
:Anywhere except where those lead,: she replied, finally :Other than that, I really don't know. . .:
:Perhaps, white sister,: said a strange, very dry voice, .you should determine a direction before setting out.:
The bushes directly ahead of them rustled, and something large-very large-stepped out from among them.
:Perhaps I can help,: the voice continued.
Stef groped after a knife, his eyes fixed on the creature, his heart right in his throat. This beast - whatever it was - looked something like a wolf, but was much bigger than any wolf Stef had ever heard of or seen. Its shoulder was as tall as his waist; it had a thin, rangy body with long legs, and a head with a very broad, rounded forehead, forward-facing eyes, and jaws -
Dear gods, that thing could bite my arm in half and never notice -
:I could, singer, but I won't.: The thing lolled out its tongue in a canine grin. :I see you recognize my Folk, white sister. Tell him:
:That's a kyree, Stef. A neuter, I think.: Yfandes bowed her head to the creature, and Stef relaxed marginally. :One with a very powerful Gift of Mindspeech, or you wouldn't be able to hear him . . . er, it.:
:Indeed, right on all counts.: The kyree padded elegantly across the snow toward them. :I am the FarRanger for the Hot Springs Clan. I felt the magic, and I came. We are like in power, white sister, and you know my kind. Can I give you a direction?:
:Do you know the Tayledras?: she asked. The kyree nodded. :We have a treaty with them, all Clans of the Folk.:
:This one is Wingbrother to k'Treva.: She tossed her head at her rider.
He raised his head and peered keenly at Vanyel :Then we are honor-bound to give you more than direction, we must give you aid and shelter. Though of my own will,: he added over his shoulder as he turned, :I would have done so anyway.: His lip lifted as he sniffed audibly. :The things here were a foul, uncleanly folk, and the world is well rid of them. In time, they might have been a danger to my Clan.: